You've Changed Me
by JT4Life
Summary: Peter's waiting for the call that Olivia's ok, and he's worried - much more than he should be. Lots of angst, fluff, UST. Bolivia ship pairing, 'Safe' spoilers. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_This was either going to be a two-parter, or a very long one-shot. Well, I chose one-shot, sorry if you think it's too long for a single chapter! I'm really lovin' toying with the whole 'kidnapped' thing, so here's another one about getting Olivia back. Cuz I'm honestly not sure if I can hold on for 15 more days!!!_

_Spoilers for 'Safe' (obviously), and maybe 'Bound' (crosses fingers)._

_Still don't own Fringe, but I'm willing to pool money to buy it from JJ! lol!_

* * *

**You've Changed Me**

Peter couldn't sit still. That was partly because he hadn't slept in over thirty-six hours and had been relying faithfully on coffee to keep him awake. But the real reason was obvious – he was waiting to get the call that the FBI had successfully stormed the empty (or so they'd thought) warehouse on the outskirts of town, the one that was suspected to be imprisoning Olivia.

He paced back and forth in Olivia's office in Boston's Federal Building. If the call came… no, _when_ the call came, he would be here, ready at a moment's notice to go to her. He ran a hand through his hair impatiently. She'd been gone for three days. Three. Whole. Days. It'd taken that long for the FBI to get one goddamned lead. Peter lashed out viciously in anger, kicking the door and getting nothing more out of it than a sore toe. He swore and kicked the door again out of spite, reaping the rewards of having a second throbbing toe.

Someone knocked at the door. Five quick, urgent, knocks. Peter's heart raced in his chest as he opened the door to find Charlie standing on the other side. His breath caught in his lungs as he waited for Charlie to speak, every muscle in his body tense and read to spring into action.

Charlie was breathless. "We've got her."

Peter nearly jumped as all the energy that had built up inside him was released in a rush of adrenaline. He dashed back into Olivia's office, grabbed his coat and hurried down the hall after Charlie. "They got her out of the warehouse as planned, no complications," Charlie filled Peter in as they dashed down four flights of stairs and out the front door.

"So she's ok?" Peter asked once they were in the ready-and-waiting SUV out front.

Charlie paused before answering and took his time turning on the ignition, making Peter nervous. "For the most part, she's alright, yeah."

Peter didn't like the way that Charlie put emphasis on 'for the most part'. He ran hand through his hair again, knowing it was as messy as hell, but not giving a rat's ass about it.

"Where is she now?"

"En route to Massachusetts General Hospital, we're meeting them there."

Peter nodded hastily and tried to preoccupy himself by looked out the window at the sunset. It was gorgeous; the way the sky was streaked with varying shades of golden-yellow, orange, pink, and a stunning, cherry red. Peter wanted to appreciate its beauty, wanted to be able to stare and gaze at it until it was gone, but more than anything, he wanted to share it with Olivia, and that was something he couldn't do.

X

The SUV pulled up to the front entrance of Massachusetts General about an hour later, due to crummy traffic conditions. Peter leapt out of the vehicle at top speed. He could distantly hear Charlie calling after him, something about probably not being able to see her yet, but he ignored it and dashed to the front desk.

"I'm here to see Olivia Dunham, she arrived here about an hour ago?" Peter asked the nurse behind the desk, holding up his 'Civilian Advisor to The Department of Homeland Security' ID badge for all it was worth. The woman behind looked tired, like she'd had a long day and wanted nothing more than for her shift to end. But something in this young man's voice caused her to look up and pay attention.

"I'll look her up for you," the woman replied kindly. "Are you a relative, co-worker, boyfriend…?"

"_Friend_," Peter corrected her firmly, surprising himself at how easily the word 'friend' came to his head, just as Charlie arrived beside him.

"Hey," Charlie greeted him, "Do you know where she is yet?"

Before Peter could respond, the woman behind the desk spoke. "Level four, room 456."

Peter thanked her and dashed off to the stairwell, Charlie jogging behind him. Up four floors, down the hall on the right– no, wait, wrong hall. The other way….

The hospital was quiet at this hour. Peter only noticed because the sound his feet made as they pounded down the empty corridors was almost eerie; each footstep echoed loudly on the shiny terrazzo flooring and gave a sense that the place was completely forsaken, save for the occasional nurse.

He finally found his way to the right wing of the fourth floor after having to ask for directions twice. _Damn hospitals…_ he thought bitterly as he approached the main section of the ward where a small reception desk connected the space between that hallway and the one parallel to it. Peter ignored the desk, and the fact that he'd lost Charlie a couple hallways back, and paced quickly down the hall, counting the room numbers.

"Excuse me sir, can I help you?"

Peter turned to see a man dressed in mint green scrubs and a lab coat rise from his chair behind the desk and approach him.

"I'm here to see a friend, Olivia Dunham? The nurse downstairs told me that her room was down this hall…"

"Yes, room –" the doctor checked his chart, "– number 456?"

"That's the one," Peter confirmed, beginning to get irritated.

"Well, I'm afraid she's not out of the trauma bay yet. You'll have to wait for a while."

Peter's temper had been rising all day and had finally come to its boiling point, and this guy was not helping one bit.

"But the woman – the woman at the desk downstairs, she said she'd be in room 456 and then you tell me something different?!" he snapped back, feeling his blood pressure rising steadily right alongside his anger level.

"That's because that's the room we've booked for her," the doctor explained in a steady voice, his way of trying to calm down the extremely pissed off man before him, but it only resulted in greater frustration on Peter's end. "Now, if you'd like to wait until she comes up, maybe get a cup of coffee, please do, but I'd ask that you do it quietly. I have sleeping patients down both these halls," the doctor gestured behind him to the opposite hall behind the desk.

Peter wanted to get into a yelling match with this guy for not letting him see Olivia, more than anything he wanted to do that and then storm into the trauma bay and find her himself. But he didn't, especially because he could hear Charlie's footsteps coming down the hall, and making a scene in the hospital probably wouldn't go over well with the Bureau.

"Alright, I'll wait," he managed to say with a painfully calm, but even, voice.

The doctor nodded, looking slightly relieved. "Shall I check and see when they think she'll be transferred to her room?"

"Yes, thank you," Charlie answered for him, appearing beside him to join in the conversation.

Peter nodded to show his thanks, not wanting to open his mouth again and risk being incapable of controlling what came tumbling out of it. The doctor smiled at them and returned to his post behind the desk and picked up the phone to page the trauma bay. The hallway fell quiet again as Charlie led Peter out of earshot of the desk.

"What happened back there, Bishop?" Charlie asked him. Peter almost blew up in his face too, but he noted that Charlie didn't look mad, just worried.

"Nothing, really," Peter dodged the question. "I've just been running on a short fuse the last few days."

Charlie nodded understandingly. "You're not the only one." He checked his watch. "'Liv's not gonna be out of there for a while, so I'm gonna grab a coffee. Looks like you could use one too, Bishop."

"Yeah, a coffee would be great, thanks," Peter accepted his offer graciously and slumped down on one of the benches that occasionally occupied the wall space between two rooms. He was exhausted, but no cup of coffee would be able to fix that. But no matter – he would sit and wait for Olivia on this uncomfortable wooden bench all night if he had to, not that falling asleep was an option or anything. Peter bet himself that he wouldn't be able to get one wink of sleep even if he tried. So he sat there in that empty, quiet hallway and waited.

X

Some time later, at least an hour or more, and long after Charlie had come back with his coffee, Peter began wandering the halls in search of a vending machine. The doctor had told them that the nurse in the trauma bay had said that Olivia wouldn't be transferred to a room anytime soon, and that it would probably happen anywhere between forty-five minutes to an hour and a half from then. _Some help that is_, Peter had thought sulkily.

The coffee from Charlie had perked him up for a short while, but he finally concluded that caffeine alone wasn't gonna cut it – he needed an old fashioned chocolate bar. Plus, sitting around wasn't something he was good at, and especially when he was anxious. So, vending machine it was.

It took Peter a few wrong turns to find one, but he finally did, at the opposite end of the hall from one of the main elevators, and bought a Three Musketeers bar. He was just about to rip open the wrapper when the silent hallway suddenly became not so silent. One of the elevator doors opened, and a few doctors and nursed came out, wheeling a bed down the hallway in the opposite direction of the vending machine, the way Peter had come down the hall. Over the course of the last hour or more, he'd seen several patients being wheeled around in beds to be transported to different areas of the hospital. Maybe it was from the lack of sleep, but he didn't think anything of it, at least not until he caught a glimpse of long, blonde hair between the flapping lab coats of the doctors.

Feeling like he was in a dream, Peter began to walk down the long corridor after the bed, then that walk turned into a jog, which then turned into a run, and that into a side-splitting sprint as he booked it down the hall, past the elevators, around the corner, straight for a few yards, and then skidding around another corner into the hallway where Olivia's room was. He stopped, breathless, at the beginning of the hallway where he'd been waiting for the last hour. The bed was being wheeled into her room. Charlie was looking on the group, but Peter could see that they wouldn't let him see her yet.

Peter hurried down the hall (yet again) and caught up with Charlie. The two men stood in silence as they waited for the convoy to re-emerge for a full two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, by Peter's watch.

It was easily one of the longest two minutes and thirty-eight seconds of Peter's life.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the small group came out of Olivia's room. One of the nurses approached them.

"Can we see Agent Dunham _now_?" Charlie asked the woman, a slight bite to his voice, making Peter smile inwardly. _Better him than me_, he thought dryly.

"Yes, you may, but please be quiet, she's asleep," the nurse replied, sounding worn out and in need of some sleep herself, before hastily heading off to check on some more patient charts behind the desk.

"You go in first," Charlie told him, "I've got to call Broyles and give him an update."

Peter was shocked. "Are you sure?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, you on ahead, I'll catch up in a bit. God knows how long it'll take to get a decent cell phone reception in here," Charlie looked a bit down, but he smiled encouragingly at Peter and started off down the hall.

With his heart thumping loudly in his chest, Peter took a breath and opened the door. He hadn't even thought of what he might say to her once she was awake, much less what he might think when he saw her….

He entered the room, dimly lit by a small lamp on her bedside table. But the first thing he saw was her. Olivia. Lying in the hospital bed with a bandaged up arm, a couple stitches above her right eyebrow, and a few scrapes and bruises that marred her features – but she still looked as beautiful as ever to Peter.

He approached her bedside on light feet, not wanting to wake her. Pulling a chair over, Peter took a deep calming breath in an effort to hold back a sob. It caused him physical pain to see her like this, all beaten up and suffering. It occurred to him that he'd never seen her sleeping before, and in addition to all her injuries, that somehow made her seem smaller – less like the willful, slightly intimidating FBI Agent she was – and more like… Olivia. Just Olivia, a regular person who didn't deal with God knows what kinds of weird and frightening pseudoscience on a daily basis.

Choking back another sob, he reached out with a shaking hand and stroked her hair to the rhythm of the heart-rate monitor.

Big mistake.

Sensing his touch, Olivia woke with a start, surprising Peter, and began attempting to disconnect herself from the IV drip in her arm, crying incoherent things and whimpering pathetically.

"Olivia, it's me, it's Peter." He had stood up in alarm and was now shaking terribly, holding his hands up in a display of innocence. She stopped struggling and looked up at him with fearful eyes. "You're safe, you're safe now…" he said soothingly, for both Olivia's and his benefits. She didn't move from her position, perched on the opposite edge of the bed. Her hair was all mussed up and the two sizes too large hospital gown she was wearing had slipped, exposing her left shoulder. Peter tried not to stare when he saw that it too was sporting a nasty, purplish bruise. Olivia's hand was still poised on the IV drip. She's already clawed at it enough to irritate the surrounding skin, which was now bright red.

"Peter?" Her voice was quiet, scared – like she'd just woken from a night terror and was still disoriented and confused.

"I'm right here," he replied just as softly, slowly dropping his hands and resting them on the edge of the bed. "I'm right here…"

Olivia nodded, biting her lower lip, her eyes teary. She glanced down at the IV, fingering the enflamed skin around it. "This thing hurts like hell," she confessed with a dry laugh, a slight choke in her voice.

"When you hack at it like that, then yeah, it's supposed to be a pain in the ass," Peter replied, giving her a small grin. He sat down on the edge of the bed, silently praying that she wouldn't freak again. To his utmost relief, Olivia not only remained calm, but she inched her way bit-by-bit back into bed. Peter smiled and shifted his position so that he was actually sitting on the bed beside her.

"May I?" he asked, pointing to her arm with the IV in it. After a split-second hesitation, Olivia nodded and held it out for him. Peter held her arm gently in his hands, inspecting the swollen area for signs of serious inflammation that could turn into a whole bunch of other pointless problems that she sure as hell didn't need right now. He lightly traced his fingers along her forearm around the afflicted area.

"Will I live?" Olivia glanced up at him with a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. Peter was amazed that she could crack a joke.

He smiled at her and gently took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "You're gonna be fine, I promise."

Olivia looked down at their entwined hands thoughtfully before nodding silently.

"C'mere," Peter said, ever so gently wrapping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her to him. Olivia shuddered and leaned in closer, resting her head on Peter's shoulder. He felt her shudders and frowned. "Olivia? What's wrong?"

"I'm cold…" she whispered. A shiver ran up and down her back and she pressed herself a bit closer to Peter. He wrapped his other arm around her too, resting his head on top of hers.

It wasn't at all like Peter to show this much affection towards anyone, but Olivia wasn't like the other girls. She didn't bat her eyelashes at him or flirt endlessly in his presence. And that's why Peter was holding her now, at least that's what he told himself. Admittedly, he knew that there was much more between them than met the eye, or there wouldn't be tears in his eyes as he pressed his lips to her hair and inhaled her scent, gently rocking her shivering form back and forth. If they weren't more than just co-workers, then he wouldn't be burning with anger, itching to lay his hands the bastards who did this to her and punch their lights out. If it weren't for his current… _relationship_ with Olivia Dunham, then a lot of things would be much different.

Eventually, Olivia pulled away and looked up at Peter. He pulled away a bit too, but he kept his arms in a protective circle around her. Her eyes were heavy from exhaustion, but she saw the way his eyes were a little pink and puffy.

"You should get some rest, ok?" Peter suggested quickly, hastily wiping away his tears. She nodded in compliance but something in those impeccably green eyes said that she was just as worried about him as he was about her. Peter helped her lay back down for fear that she would push herself too much and, like always, end up hurting herself.

Once she was tucked in, Peter pulled his chair up closer to the bed and sat down again so that they were on the same eye-level.

"Peter?"

"Hmm?" He met her gaze and saw that the unusual glint that was in her eyes a moment before was still there.

"I don't want you beating yourself up over this," she spoke earnestly. Peter tried to cut in and tell her that he was fine, but she stopped him. "Peter, listen to me," Olivia continued in a small, but forceful voice. "I can't have you breaking down on me over something that's not remotely your fault, something well beyond what you can control… I – I can barely cope with this myself." She reached out and took his hand, fresh tears filling her eyes. "I need you –" she cut off abruptly, realizing what had just come out of her mouth. Olivia's eyes were wide with shock and her face was slowly turning to a light shade of crimson.

Peter could feel her hand heating up beneath his. He grinned, unable to help but find her expression a bit amusing. Olivia's blush deepened and she looked away quickly in a pointless attempt to hide it, giggling a little in spite of herself.

Peter rested his elbows on the edge of the bed, still holding Olivia's hand in his. "I'll make a deal with you," he proposed, a teasing smile playing on his lips, "how about you get some sleep now and we can come back to this pressing issue later?"

"Deal," Olivia said, eyes dancing, her blush beginning to fade.

Peter's smile widened as he stood and took a step towards the door, thought better of it, turned, and bent over Olivia until their faces were no more than a few inches apart. "Sleep well," he whispered and placed a small kiss on her cheek, careful to avoid touching a scrape or bruise. Peter could've sworn that he'd heard a tiny gasp escape her lips at his touch, but then again, maybe it was just his ego getting carried away with itself.

He pulled away only a foot or so and laid his hand against her cheek, softly caressing it with his thumb and smiling at her. Olivia stared up into his eyes, momentarily mesmerized by his gaze, blushing madly yet again. After a moment, Peter stood, if a bit reluctantly, released his grip on her hand, and was about to leave to give her some privacy, but stopped because Olivia's hand was still clamped to his.

"Don't leave, please," she begged him, a hint of possible hysteria in her voice. Peter couldn't blame her, and felt like a jerk for even considering leaving her alone after all that had just happened.

"It's ok, I'll stay," he assured her.

Olivia nodded and let out a small sigh, looking somewhat at ease for the first time, and closed her eyes. Peter turned out the bedside light and leaned back in his chair. Now that he knew that Olivia was safe and not more than a few feet away from him, he could finally let himself breathe and catch up on his much needed sleep. What's more, he felt like whatever weight he'd been carrying around on his shoulders for the last three days had been lifted off by some unknown force. A few small bricks remained, but Peter always carried the weight of one or more things on his shoulders. It was nothing compared to the lead bricks that had threatened to break him during the seventy-two hours of uncertainty concerning Olivia's safety.

Peter opened his eyes sleepily and glanced over at the bed to make sure that she still there. Olivia's blonde hair shone in the moonlight the streamed through cracks in the blinds. Her breathing was slow, suggesting that she was already out cold. He smiled and closed his eyes again, resting his head on the back of the chair, and drifted off to the sound of the quiet _beep, beep_ of the heart-rate machine and Olivia's slow, steady breathing.

* * *

_What did you guys think? I'm not sure if I could continue this one, or how I would. Any ideas welcome in a review! And you know how much I love feedback.... :D_

_This is probably my last fic for a while because my life turns back into hell starting tomorrow at 5 am (tear tear). I love you all, thanks so much for taking the time to read my stuff!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Ok, so initially I wasn't going to continue this one, but I loved all your ideas and I decided to use Ocein's (thanks dude!) and take it a little further/elaborate and such. Plus, methinks that these last few days will be the longest ones of my life, so I need something to keep me sane, you know?_

_After lots of rewriting and re-rewriting, this is how chapter two turned out, so enjoy! And you know I don't own Fringe, 'cuz if I did then the word 'hiatus' would not be in the english language ;)_

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Olivia looked up from her paperwork when she heard the door to the lab open. She cringed from looking up too fast, her remaining injuries screaming in pain, though she didn't know why she'd had to do so that eagerly. Peter was hanging up his jacket and coming down the steps towards her. Oh. _That_ was why. Olivia looked away quickly, hoping that he hadn't noticed her watching him.

Truth be told, she'd been avoiding Peter for the past couple weeks. Initially, he'd been happy to give her space. For the first week after her release from the hospital, Peter had been more than just helpful, but he let the little things go that, on a regular basis, he might have pushed. Something simple, like never asking her even once how much sleep she'd gotten the previous night. She'd been extremely grateful for his ability to understand her needs, but all the same, she'd been avoiding him even then. By week two, Olivia was avoiding Peter so much that she found herself going well out of her way to prevent making any sort of contact with him. And what was worse, she knew exactly why. It had happened the first time she'd woken up in her hospital bed, lashing out and screaming and afraid. It was the way he'd seen her in the hospital that first time… that was the most vulnerable she'd ever let anyone see her. Ever. Now he was the only person on the entire planet who'd truly gotten behind her many defenses, every one of them as they came crashing down. If Olivia had ever felt exposed, it was during these last few weeks, knowing how Peter had seen her, combined with the way that he looked at her with such care and concern every unbearable moment that they were together. It was like he'd seen her naked, but somehow even worse than that. Every second she was in his presence, Olivia kept herself so self-absorbed and detached so that she could try to convince herself that the new fortress she'd build up around her would somehow make up for that night in the hospital. She knew that it was a vain attempt, but it was all she had to go on. Moving on was something she needed to do, try to put that whole ordeal behind her, even though she'd never really gotten over it herself. That night with Peter was both the first and last time she'd opened up to anyone, including herself, after what had happened to her.

So when Peter opened the door to the lab that morning, Olivia panicked and threw up another few mental reinforcements, praying that he wasn't actually coming over to her, even though he was making a beeline for her table.

"Good morning, Olivia," he said casually, placing a cup of coffee in front of her.

"Morning," she said quickly, trying to cover up that she could feel her stomach doing a number on the trapeze. She willed the sensation to go away hastily. If she was trying to avoid Peter then why did her guts go to the circus every time he did something like getting her a coffee or simply smiling at her from across the room? Olivia pushed those thoughts away and glanced up from her work at the coffee. It smelled just as good as it looked, but accepting it would mean making eye contact with Peter. However, he beat her to it, pulled a chair up beside her, and managed to catch her eye. She could feel him seizing her up and her face grew hot. His gaze fell on her hand that was still partially bandaged, then traveled up to the stitches above her right eye, and then to her cheek, where it lingered.

Peter frowned. "Where did you get this from? It looks fresh." He pointed to the small cut that ran along her jaw line.

"Oh, it's nothing, I just tripped coming out of my apartment this morning." Olivia looked away from him, feeling self-conscious and pretended to continue with her paperwork, but Peter stopped her.

"Hey," he said softly, and something in his tone made Olivia look up, whether she wanted to or not. Peter reached out and gently bushed his fingers along her jaw line, his eyes searching her, looking more worried than ever. She stiffened at his touch as an alarm went off inside her. Before Olivia knew what was happening, she had jumped up from her chair and was slowly backing away from Peter, trembling. He didn't advance or try to console her, as she feared he might. Instead, Peter just stood up and stared at her, unmoving. "I'm sorry, Olivia, I'm sorry…" He looked horrified at what he'd done; Peter's face was ashen and Olivia could tell that he was shaking too, even from a distance. "I'm… I'm sorry…" Peter mumbled again while backing away from her even further. He turned and grabbed his jacket and was out the door before Olivia could register what had just happened.

She stood rooted to the spot for a long time after the echo of the slamming door had faded away, leaving noting but a slight ringing in her ears. Olivia was breathing heavily as hot tears rolled silently down her cheeks. The salt stung her cut, but she ignored the pain and just let them come. Eventually, she sat down on the hard, cold floor, drawing her knees to her chest, and buried her face in her folded arms, sobbing quietly. Olivia hardly knew why she was crying, but two reasons were obvious; she'd hurt Peter, hurt him a lot, and when he was leaving, she didn't even try to make him stay. She'd just stood there and watched him leave.

X

Olivia didn't see Peter once the rest of the day, and it frightened her. A short while ago, she spent her time staying away from him, and now…. Now, she would give anything to see him again. Later, Walter confirmed that his son wasn't in their hotel room, and hadn't been since that morning. Olivia ignored the scientist's further comments and questions as to why he wasn't there, not having the physical strength to deal with Walter's annoying quips and quirks. She drudged through the remainder of the day, feeling like there was a lead weight on each of her shoulders, dragging her down and making every little action feel ten times harder and about a hundred times slower than it should.

When eight o'clock rolled around, almost everyone had gone home, but Olivia remained in the lab. She didn't want to go home. All her work for the day was done, so she began on some of the paperwork that was tomorrow's work. By nine o'clock, she couldn't concentrate with her stomach rumbling so loudly, and went to find a vending machine for a quick snack. A full dinner wasn't something she had time for, not right now. If she was working, she was preoccupied, and he mind wouldn't wander. A snack was all she needed anyways.

Olivia returned to the lab a few minutes later empty-handed; the one vending machine she'd found was out of order. She opened the door to the lab and froze when she saw Peter sitting on the couch, hands clasped together, and starring at the floor. He looked up at her entry and they held each other's gaze for a moment. Olivia could feel her heart hammering in her chest as her feet carried her down the steps of their own accord and stopped by one of the tables. She placed a hand on one of the chairs for support as Peter slowly rose from the couch and came to stand a few feet away from her. He wouldn't look at her for a minute as they stood facing each other in an awkward silence.

Finally, Peter looked up at her. "I have something for you," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. Olivia's curiosity couldn't help itself and got a bit interested as he reached into his coat pocket. Peter pulled out a Three Musketeers chocolate bar and offered it to her. Despite herself, Olivia gave him a small smile as she accepted it from him, their fingers brushing lightly against each other. "I bought that the night I waited for you at the hospital."

"Which night? You were there a lot." Olivia stiffened at the slip, trying to keep her expression innocent; though she knew exactly which night he was talking about.

Apparently, her ruse wasn't good enough, for Peter raised his eyebrows at her. "I think you know exactly which night I'm talking about, 'Liv."

Her face felt hot from getting caught so easily, but she pushed the thought away and focused on what Peter was saying.

"I never got to eat it because they finally transferred you to your room, and I forgot all about being hungry." Peter looked straight into her eyes. "I didn't know how to tell you I was sorry, and… this was the best I could think of that might actually mean something to you."

Olivia was unintentionally moved by his rather unconventional but caring and heartfelt words and she felt her breath catch in her chest. "Actually," she began, looking fondly down at the chocolate bar, "this is just… it's perfect, thanks."

"The vending machine broke down again?" Peter concluded, giving her a small smile.

"Yeah…."

They fell silent again as Olivia tried to think about how she would tell him what she knew she must, but thinking about it would just complicate things, so Olivia blurted it out quickly.

"I'm sorry!" Peter looked at her, startled by her sudden apology. Olivia ran a hand through her hair and tried to keep it together. "Peter, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like I did… I – I got scared and I just… I'm sorry –"

Peter took a tentative step closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright to get scared like that. After what you went through, I'm surprised that you haven't done that more often." Olivia nodded, looking anywhere but into his eyes – his deep, gentle, beautiful eyes. "I wasn't thinking when I…" he trailed off gracelessly. "It won't happen again, not unless – "

"I don't want it to?" Olivia finished for him. She drew in a quick breath and felt her face go red. The words had just leapt out of her mouth without warning, and now she felt like a fool. "I – that, I mean, it didn't come out right…"

Peter's hand slid from her shoulder to her forearm, making her skin tingle beneath her blouse wherever his hand moved. He smiled at her. "Eat your snack, I think you need some food." Olivia nodded and tried to move but found that her feet were unresponsive. Peter gave her a queer look. "Olivia? Are you alright?" He asked gently, placing his other hand on her opposite forearm. A chill shot up Olivia's spine, bring her joints back to life and she pulled away, nodding again.

"Yeah, fine," she recovered herself quickly, wondering what exactly had just happened back there. Olivia shook her head slightly, desperately trying to rid her mind of distracting thoughts.

Peter followed her to the couch and sat down beside her. She noticed that he was keeping a respectful distance from her, all to make sure that she was ok. _He really cares about you…_ she thought and smiled inwardly.

"What are you so happy about?"

Olivia looked up to see Peter grinning at her, that playful spark back in his eyes. Olivia blushed again – apparently that smile wasn't as inward as she'd intended it to be.

"Nothing," she shook her head, still smiling, and began opening the wrapper on the chocolate bar. She felt much better now that she and Peter were back on speaking terms. It shocked her how terrible she felt for one day without him, and she wondered how she could have possibly managed to avoid him for two weeks. For some reason, it didn't matter that he was the one person who'd seen her without her armor on. Right now, all that mattered was the fact that she and Peter were friends again. _Friends_. It was a nice word and a simple way to express their relationship. Olivia cared for him, and Peter obviously cared for her, so 'friends' was a perfect description.

"What's the frown for?" Olivia looked up to see Peter's slightly confused face gazing into hers.

She was shocked, having had no idea that her facial expressions were so reflective of her thoughts. "It's nothing."

Peter chuckled. "You're a great agent, I'll give you that Olivia, but you're a _terrible_ liar."

His comment made her chuckle, but she didn't elaborate on the matter, and took a bite of the chocolate. It was warm from being in Peter's pocket and practically turned to liquid heaven in her mouth.

"My God, that's good," she smiled at the simple pleasure of eating chocolate, something she hadn't done in what felt like ages, and took another bite. Peter chuckled again. "What?" Olivia questioned him.

"You've got a little something right here," he pointed to the corner of his mouth. She wiped the edge of her mouth with her finger. "Better?"

"Not even close," Peter grinned, obviously enjoying it.

She tried again. "How about now?"

Peter just shook his head and leaned towards her, his hand outstretched, but he froze a few inches from her face. Again, he was being wary of giving her enough space. Olivia wanted the awkward moment to pass quickly so she offered him the most elusive of nods, hoping that he would understand the message that she was fine. His smile reappeared and he wiped at a spot just below her lip and drew back, showing her his chocolate-covered finger as proof.

"See? I told you so," he grinned smugly and licked it off his finger like a kid who snuck a taste of the icing on his birthday cake a few hours early.

Olivia sighed contentedly and took another bite of chocolate, gazing at Peter. He really was amazing, treating her like this when all she'd done for the past two weeks was block him out.

"It's getting late, y'know," he said after a quick glance at his watch, "you want a ride home?"

Olivia's smile widened. A million and one possible responses jumped into her mouth all at once, but she swallowed them and went for one of the simplest.

"Sure, I'd like that."

Now Peter's smile was broadening too. She allowed him to lead her to his car, well, _Walter_'s car, his hand occasionally brushing against hers when they bumped into each other, never mind the fact that they were already standing much closer than two co-workers, maybe even friends, would.

The ride home was a quiet one, but it was a comfortable kind of quiet. Olivia got the feeling that Peter was smart enough to know that she was feeling better, but not to push it. Even though his exquisite ability to read her emotions had the tendency to piss her off, it was times like these when it was something that brought them closer together without uttering a single word.

When the car pulled up to the curb outside Olivia's apartment, she was very comfortably nestled up against the passenger door with her coat pulled up around her neck and didn't much feel like leaving. Plus, the idea of going into the dark building all alone was a bit daunting.

Feeling Peter's eyes on her, Olivia glanced over at him. His expression was the one he always wore when he was reading her. She didn't know how to voice her concern, so she let him stare for a long moment.

He got the memo, and his expression softened. "Should I come up with you?"

Under any other circumstances, those six words would have filled the car with an awkward tension more rapidly than a smoke bomb would, but tonight, it didn't matter, and Olivia took it as a gentlemanly courtesy.

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling a bit silly nonetheless for 'asking' him the question in the first place.

Peter walked her up to the door and waited while she fumbled with the keys, again, knowing exactly when and how to give her breathing space.

Olivia turned to him once she was in the doorway. "Thank you… for everything, Peter."

He smiled back with that high school boy charm that always caught her off guard and made her stomach feel like it'd just taken a spin on Top Gun. "Any time, Olivia. And I'm sorry again for what happened earlier."

"It's alright, Peter, _I'm_ alright," she shrugged, nearly at a loss of what else to say to console him, "I just don't want you beating yourself up about it."

"I promise I won't, Scout's Honor," Peter raised his right hand and placed his left across his heart with a chuckle, making her smile. He dropped his hands and his smile grew warmer. "I've missed you, 'Livia. I guess what I'm trying to say… is it's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," she replied quietly. He caught her eye and held her gaze, but there was no reading involved this time, no pensive expression. He just gazed at her tenderly, and it made her a bit self-conscious.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" Olivia asked, thankful that it was dark out so that her blushing wouldn't be as obvious.

"Tomorrow, then. Do you want a ride in?"

"Sure, that'd be great."

Peter grinned. "Goodnight, Olivia."

"Goodnight, Peter," Olivia replied, her voice a bit softer than she'd expected it to be. Peter turned and made his way back to the car as she closed the door to the outside world, clicked the lock and slid the deadbolt into place. She leaned her back against the door and took a deep breath, trying to bring her pulse down. There were too many reasons for her heart to be pumping so fast, and she was too tired to think about them now. Olivia forced herself into a state of temporary calm as she went about the apartment, systematically turning on all the lights, and getting ready to crash into bed.

The sense of security she'd felt when she was with Peter was gone, replaced with a gaping hole somewhere inside her where paranoia was manifesting. Olivia leaned against the foot of her bed and closed her eyes. She couldn't have a panic attack, not now.

_Relax… think about Peter…_

Peter… she was almost ready to call him and ask him to turn around and come back, but she stopped herself.

_Just think… think about how you're talking to him again…_

Olivia opened her eyes and took a shaky breath. In all honesty, she really had missed having Peter a part of her life during those last two weeks of social seclusion. He was someone that she couldn't live without, and that scared her. All her life, Olivia had never been overly dependant on anyone. John had changed that to some degree, but Peter was unlike anyone she'd ever met. He had a way of being sweet, caring, and alluringly mysterious, but his mood could change on a dime and he'd be as angry as hell, beating some crook up in an alleyway for her.

But he hadn't been angry like that for a while now, for not more than an hour ago, Peter had been gazing at her in that way he could, all joking mannerisms gone, in that way that made her want to tell him everything that was on her mind, but at the same time, not want to tell him anything at all. As inviting as his eyes had been as they bored gently into hers, opening up to him meant going back to the place where Olivia didn't want to go – the place where she felt weak and defenseless, the place where her armor was paper-thin.

Olivia wiped away the tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes with haste and made for her closet to find pajamas, desperately trying to focus on something else. It was a defensive effort to block him and other thoughts out of her mind. Her old barricades were back in action, springing up automatically as fear grabbed hold of her. Fear of having to think about what had happened, what they did to her. It was something that Olivia had been avoiding since she first woke up in the hospital, and something triggered by her renewed familiarity with Peter was weakening her mind, making her think of the pain that she'd pushed into the darkest corner of her mind – another defensive mechanism so that she didn't go completely insane.

Unwillingly, Olivia felt more tears rolling down her cheeks than she could wipe away. She backed away from the closet and sunk down on the bed, suddenly feeling like she was going to be sick. Olivia gripped the side of the bed with white knuckles as vivid memories flashed through her mind's eye. The dim lights, the dirty floors and walls…

"_Who are you?"_

…the masked creep, his gloved hand as her stroked her cheek…

"_Are you going to kill me?"_

…the massive needle that they drove into her spine, the splitting pain that radiated from the injection through her entire body, all the way to her fingertips, and her own ear-splitting screams as she struggled in her bonds, desperately trying to get away.

Olivia wasn't aware of her surroundings as she screamed like she was still strapped to the table as her traumatized mind played tricks on her. The migraine-like pressure on the inside of her head was growing and she cried out again, disoriented, her mind far, far away from the bedroom of the small Boston apartment. She slipped off the edge of the bed in her hysteria, screaming and sobbing, and curled up in a ball on the floor like a little child who was afraid of the dark as she mentally relived her torture. It was the result of suppressing her hurts and thoughts, her fears and pain, to the point where her mind could not cope with the build-up of emotion any longer.

Her delirium lasted for what felt like an eternity as she thrashed and shook and cried out to anyone who could hear her, but no one came. When black spots began appearing in her field of vision, Olivia let them, wanted them to, so that she could just black out and bring an end to all the pain.

"Please…" she whimpered to the empty room as she lay sprawled out on the floor, chest heaving and limbs shaking, "make it stop… please…"

She drew in a shuddering breath and exhaled slowly as her body mercifully shut down under the stress of it all and everything went black.

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_I think there will be one more chapter after this one, maybe more, but I'm not exactly sure where this is going to go._

_Any thoughts or ideas? I have a vague idea of where I'm taking this one, so any ideas or other feedback is more than welcome!!!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi y'all! Sorry it took so long to get the final update for this fic up. The last few weeks have been pure insanity and I've had about zero time to chill. But thank god I finally finnished this one, writer's block included! It sure contributed to the delay..._

_But anywho, I hope you enjoy this last chapter, (I don't own Fringe, etc... you know the drill :P) and happy eve of the superbowl eve :)_

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It was bright. Very bright, and it hurt her eyes to look at it, so she kept them closed until they adjusted. Olivia ran her tongue over her dry lips and tried to swallow, but the inside of her throat felt like sandpaper. Everything ached. Each and every muscle in her body was sore, even though she wasn't moving. She decided to try opening her eyes again, hoping that they would be used to the brightness by now. Tentatively, Olivia pried them open, testing to make sure that the searing pain that had erupted behind her eyes the first time she'd tried wouldn't come back. Luckily, it didn't. She glanced down and noticed that she was still fully clothed in her blouse and slacks and lying spread-eagled on the hardwood floor beside her bed. Shivers wracked her weak body from the cold sweat that she was drenched in. Olivia moaned, a hint of nausea still thriving somewhere in her gut

She knew that she'd passed out at some point the previous night, though she had no idea when that was or what time it was now. Her ears felt weird, like they were submerged underwater, but the feeling was fading rapidly now that she was regaining consciousness.

After a few minutes of agony, she managed to pull herself up, clamping onto the edge of the bed like it was her lifeline. Her muscles physically shook under the stress of accomplishing the simple task of standing up, and it drove her half mad that her abilities had been reduced to the point where she couldn't even stand without over exerting herself.

Eventually, Olivia had pulled herself up onto the bed in a half standing half slouching position. Her blinds were wide open since she hadn't gotten to close them the night before. The intense sunlight sparked that nerve somewhere in her head and her mind exploded with pain. Olivia winced and shut her eyes quickly, but the pain lingered and took a few minutes to completely fade away.

Then someone knocked at her door. The noise was only just audible to Olivia, whose head was still spinning from the effort of lifting herself off the floor. At first, she thought that she was hallucinating again and braced herself for another onslaught, but when the knocking came again, this time a little more urgent, she grit her teeth and forced her legs to support her. The journey to the door was a long one, but she wanted to answer it. She wasn't _that_ weak, for God's sake.

By the time Olivia reached the door, the knocking had become increasingly insistent until she was almost sure that whoever was on the other side of the door would break it down if they took another hammer at it. The noise didn't help her migraine one bit, but she persisted and pulled the door open after a few failed attempts to yank it from its frame.

"Peter?" she spoke hoarsely, her dry throat feeling like it was on fire.

The young Bishop stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly open for a moment before he found his voice.

"My God, Olivia, you look like shit." His eyes were wide and concerned, and Olivia could have sworn that there was a spark of fear in them as well.

"I had a rough night," she replied simply, her voice still shaky. It didn't reassure Peter one bit, and she could see it in his ever-widening eyes.

That's when Olivia's legs decided to give way and buckle beneath her. She grabbed onto both the inside and outside door handles to stop her fall, but Peter was already there, having practically dove to her rescue the very nanosecond of her collapse. His arms encircled her waist, supporting her, and, not knowing what else to do, Olivia wrapped an arm around his shoulders and allowed Peter to half walk half drag her into the safety of her apartment. Her head swooned under a strong dizzy spell and she placed all her weight on Peter's shoulder as he readily scooped her up and laid her on the obviously not-slept-in bed. The entire time Peter didn't speak, and Olivia was grateful for his silence. As she lay on her bed, a fresh sweat covering her face and chest, she wondered how long it would be until he asked her a question that she would have no choice but to answer.

Peter rose and, after mercifully drawing her blinds closed, went about the kitchen grabbing a damp cloth and some ginger ale, one of the few things that took up space in her fridge. He returned to her side, still unspeaking, and pressed the cloth to her forehead. It was cool against her skin, and refreshingly so. He dabbed slowly and evenly at her cheeks, neck and chest. His hand brushed against the skin just below her collarbone and it sent her heart into a wild frenzy, but she was too weak to move, and what's more, she didn't want to. With a jolt, Olivia realized that she enjoyed being taken care of by Peter. There was something about his presence that both calmed and enticed her at the same time, but she had grown accustomed to the mixture of sensations over the last several months.

Breaking into her reverie, Peter stopped dabbing at her neck and let the cloth rest on her forehead.

"Olivia," he began slowly as he picked up the ginger ale and popped the top to let it fizz. She already knew what was coming and looked up at the ceiling to avoid his gaze. "Olivia, I'd like to know what happened."

There it was – that way of his of being persuasive but not pressuring. She decided that this was a battle she wouldn't fight, and took a few deep breaths in and out before tearing her eyes away from the ceiling and looking into his. The amount of concern in his gaze stunned her. Maybe it was just the way the light played across his face that highlighted his brow, furrowed with worry, or the way that his hand was resting on the edge of the bed, so close to hers that she could feel his body heat radiating from it, but it took longer than usual for Olivia to finally find her voice.

"I didn't talk," she whispered, more to herself than to Peter, but he listened attentively. "I didn't tell you anything for two weeks. I kept everything in that entire time, and it almost broke me."

Peter closed the inch of space between their hands, lightly taking her hand in his. "This is the part where I tell you that you're nuts to bring this on yourself…" he trailed off and smiled dryly, "but honestly, 'Livia, that's exactly what I would have done in your place… it's, um, _similar_… to what I've done before."

Olivia looked away again, hardly able to bear the understanding and tenderness in his voice. Peter grew quiet again, withdrawing into a deep place in his mind, his thumb making small circles on the back of her hand.

"But I'm the idiot," he continued, withdrawing from whatever memory he'd been reliving a moment ago, "I'm the jackass who hasn't done something nearly as important with his life as you have. I'm the jerk who lets things happen that could have been prevented or stopped all together…" Peter angled himself to directly face Olivia and clasped her hand with both of his. "That's _me_, Olivia. That's not you, not in a million years. Don't turn into that; don't turn into someone like me. I would never want that for you."

Olivia was shocked. It wasn't like Peter to make these grand kind of speeches, and this one wasn't shabby at all; on the contrary, it was the kind of thing that would normally knock Olivia clean off her feet, especially coming from Peter Bishop, but that didn't really apply since she had already been literally _swept _off her feet.

"It doesn't have to be you either," she replied quietly. Peter's head snapped up at her comment, but he brushed it away with a shrug.

"I'm not worrying about me now, ok? And please – " he stopped her from saying anything with a finger to her lips, " – please, don't pursue it. Not now, not when you're the one who needs to sort out your own set of problems. Promise?"

He removed his finger from her lips and she nodded slowly. "Alright, I promise."

"Good," Peter smiled, "now drink up." He scooped up the ginger ale from where he'd laid it on the bedside table and handed it to her. "It'll help with the nausea."

Giving him an odd look and wondering how the hell he could have possibly known that was just what she needed, Olivia sat up and accepted the drink. The bubbly drink began working immediately, settling her stomach and leaving a sweet taste in her mouth.

Peter watched her while she drank, a calm expression about him that was apparently contagious, for Olivia felt the sudden overpowering sensation of relaxation come over her. After last night, she was tired, that was all. She handed the can back to Peter and pulled an extra pillow behind her head to prop up on.

"You don't have to stay, you know, I'm fine now," Olivia said quietly and crossed her arms across her chest, feeling a bit awkward and self-conscious under his intense gaze.

"Do I intimidate you?" Peter asked with a charming smile, not breaking their eye contact.

"No, of course not," Olivia replied quickly, looking down at her hands and blushing.

"'Liv."

She looked up when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"I was just kidding, you know that, right?"

Olivia nodded quickly, aware of how close Peter had had to lean towards her to be able to touch her shoulder. Somehow, his gaze had intensified even more, and she was compelled to look into his eyes.

"If you want me to leave, I will, 'Liv, I will. Just say the word." Peter was being dead serious now, and Olivia was afraid to say the wrong thing and offend him. Peter was even closer to her now; his face was less than two feet away from her.

"I… I…" she stumbled and shook her head. She had no idea what to say.

Peter gently caught her chin in his free hand and she froze. "Olivia, listen to me."

The desperate sincerity of his words caught her off guard and she listened with rapt attention.

"It's ok to not know what to say," Peter said gently, removing his hand from her shoulder and using it to stroke her messy hair. "You're tired, you're confused right now, and you've been through shit, so just relax. Don't stress yourself out." He smiled at her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And don't forget to breathe, 'Liv."

Olivia released the breath that she didn't know she'd been holding in since Peter's hands had found their way to her face and had begun playing with her hair. Now he was close enough for her to be able to feel his warm breath on her lips.

_Why am I letting this happen? Whatever happened to keeping my distance?_

The questions jumped sporadically into Olivia's mind only to be blown away by the gentle breeze that caressed her face every time Peter exhaled. She expected him to make a move on her, but he didn't. Peter simply stayed just as he was, sitting right beside her on the bed, his hands _actually_ touching the bare skin on her face and neck. Despite the intimacy of their state of affairs, Peter remained exactly where he was, not an inch nearer or further from her. The apprehension that hung between them was, needless to say, growing exponentially with each passing moment, and Olivia wasn't sure how long she would be able to endure it.

_This shouldn't be happening…._

"Stay," Olivia blurted out quickly and breathlessly, for she found that she'd forgotten to breathe again. "I… I want you to stay."

"Only because you want me to," Peter replied with a small grin, and he leant in until his lips met hers. He was sweet, and his touch was soft and gentle. Olivia kissed him back just as tenderly, taking pleasure in the moment and not wasting one second of it.

It was a relatively quick kiss, but he pulled away slowly, letting his lips rest against hers for one extra moment. "I'm happy to stay with you."

Olivia smiled at him, blushing, but not caring in the least, especially when Peter crawled into the bed beside her and pulled her close to him, snaking his arms around her waist from behind. Olivia felt him nuzzle her hair and her smile widened as she snuggled closer to Peter. He was the greatest comfort that she could ask for, and finally, after all this time, he was here, first kissing her then lying in bed right along side her. She closed her eyes after a minute and slowly drifted off to a much-needed sleep in Peter's strong, comforting arms.

Olivia was asleep in mere minutes, and sensing the change in her breathing pattern, Peter bent over her shoulder and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, whispering softly in her ear, "Sleep well, sweetheart. I'll be right here beside you the whole time."

_

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_I hope this last chapter turned out alright.... what did you guys think?? Please review, it'd make my super-crappy Friday so much better!!!_

_oh, and a quick comment about the No-Brainer. Rachel's got no business hitting on Peter like that!!! it really ticked me off, but Peter was totally adorable with Ella. And they played my fave song "Spaceman" at the very beginning of the ep, and then "Single Ladies" for the girls.... just freaking awesome, as always! Can't wait for Peter and Olivia to go undercover in Transformation on tuesday, teehee._

_xoxo_


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